


She Shines

by croiagusanam



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Muteness, Not Canon Compliant - The Trials of Apollo, Time for sadness, Transistor AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/croiagusanam/pseuds/croiagusanam
Summary: This time, he had taken the blade for her.aka the transistor au nobody asked for.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. now your wound’s never healing

Annabeth had nearly strangled David when he had called her into his office at 4:57pm on a Friday. She had been watching the clock, ready to rush out at 5pm on the dot to make her dinner plans with Jason and Piper. Instead she had sighed and shot off a quick text to Percy, telling him to not bother waiting for her to get home before meeting the couple at their new apartment. It’s now edging on 6 as she finishes her presentation for the third time. Ordinarily she gets on great with her boss, but today his bad habit of needing to know absolutely every minor detail of a plan before he leaves for the weekend is grating on her nerves. Still, this third attempt has satisfied his curiosity and she hurries for the door. Her phone flashes to 6:07pm as she rushes out the door into the icy darkness of a November evening.  
She’s pushing her way through a group of tourists clogging the busy sidewalk eager to make it to the warmth of the subway when 20 feet away she spots Percy, moving towards her with a coffee cup in each hand, a smile spreading across his face when he spots her in turn. A smile that fades to confusion, and contorts to fear as he looks over her shoulder.  
“Welcome to the family Ms Chase,” a voice murmurs as she twists around. There are three men well dressed in black suits trimmed with purple, and a woman in a matching gown. All 4 should be freezing but display no discomfort. The speaker is holding what at first she thinks is a replica of a sword from those Japanese role playing games that Malcolm used to play but as her instincts kick in she knows this is the real thing. Replica swords aren’t made of bronze, and don’t end in a wicked point.

The next moments seem to pass in a series of flashes. She knows it lasts seconds, but it feels like years. She rips off her coat and throws it toward the group to disorient them. Footsteps pound on the concrete behind her, accompanied by the splashing of liquid. The smell of coffee and pumpkin syrup hits her nose. The speaker extends his hand, the sword flying towards her and it's moving too fast to dodge but she’s shoved from behind as a mortal screams, light flashes and then-  
And then it’s all over.

Annabeth is vaguely aware of the rushing of wind as she hits the ground, and the smell of saltwater in the air keys her into the fact that she’s been transported away from where she fell. Along the East River, she thinks. Standing up shakily, his name rises to her lips. No sound emerges. She tries to shout, and all she can hear is the rush of air. Panic begins to coil around her chest but she pushes it down. Talking can wait until they’re safely away from here. Looking around for the first time she notices for the first time that she is alone. There is not a single human within view. The street is absent of all life. She’s mildly comforted by the fact that it is also empty of death, so far as she can tell. No car wrecks, no bodies. Not even an alarm. Manhattan appears to be abandoned - more so even than during that fateful battle a decade ago. She shakes her head and begins to walk to the waterfront, the sunrise in her eyes. Annabeth mulls that over. Have they lost hours? Days? All questions to sort through later, though her mind continues to race.

‘What belongs to the sea always returns to it.’ Annabeth can’t remember when she’d heard him say that, but it seems to be close to the truth. Percy is sitting with his back to a tree, facing out over the water. His expression is peaceful with closed eyes, but his body…  
This time, he had taken the blade for her.

Annabeth falls in a heap, arms around him. Silent sobs wrack her body as she does everything she can to avoid looking down at the blade. At the blood. At the devastation of his body. The taste of iron fills her mouth, mixing with the scents of pumpkin syrup and coffee from the brown stains on his coat. Bile rises in her throat and she turns to vomit.  
“...Beth? Can you hear me?” Percy’s voice sounds in her head. She freezes before turning about. “Down here.”

His body hasn’t moved, but the sword has changed. Before it had been a solid bronze. Now it has blue lines running across its surface, lightly pulsing like a heartbeat. Annabeth’s eyes widen and she drops down, grabbing the hilt.  
“Yeah, in here” his voice echoes again. “Not that I know exactly what here is.” She imagines him frowning then, as if this was just a puzzle he needed to figure out. “Could you please say something, Annabeth?” She hums and shakes her head, and vision Percy’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

Annabeth steels herself, adjusts her grip on the hilt and pulls. The blade comes loose with a sickening noise, but it’s clean at least. She considers for a second and then gingerly removes his coat. She shakes it off and then puts it on to guard against the chill and the wind. It smells like him, and that comforts her, as if a barrier of normality exists around it protecting her from the unknown. Hefting the blade over her shoulder, she begins to walk into the city towards their apartment. She’s not sure how much Percy is aware of within the blade, but he speaks anyway.  
“Get to my bike and hightail it to camp. It’s not safe to be here on your own, and maybe Chiron can help us figure out what’s going on.”

She sets her jaw and keeps moving forward. Percy sighs and she imagines his shoulders sinking as he watches her march onward, knowing there’s not a chance in hell she’s leaving until she finds them.

“Hey ‘beth, we’re not gonna get away from this, are we?’


	2. every word a defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth hadn’t considered what it would be like to enter their bedroom alone. She would always enter it alone, now. She thought of that morning, of lazy kisses and whispered words before their rush to get ready. It was their routine. Gods, she wishes she could scream.

She was halfway home when she noticed the first one. A tiny automaton, white and quadrupedal, scarlet gems for eyes.

“That’s not one of Daedalus’s, is it?” The sword pulses slightly brighter as his voice echoes in her head. Why does it echo, she wonders. How many souls will this cursed blade reap? He is right, though, as the automaton is of a design she’s not seen before. Not that it would matter anyway. She can’t speak the command words anymore. She studied it as it moved, somewhat erratically, down the street. It seemed to be leaving a trail of paint behind it, a line of small white circles marked across the pavement. No, she realised as she crossed it for the first time; it’s drawing up all the colour from each point it touches. In a sudden flash of speed, the automaton darted to a trash can sitting on the street corner. It climbed up, sitting in place as the colour faded. And then, the texture faded from the surface, and the can was replaced by a simple white cylinder. It reminded her of something she had seen in Rachel’s apartment during their last visit. Her eyes narrow, and then widen as she slashes at the automaton with him (with the  **_sword,_ ** not him she reminds herself.)

Whoever these people are, they’re transforming Manhattan into their own personal canvas.

-

Annabeth began to see more and more of the automatons as she made her way home, along with the signs of their handiwork. Cars, buses, street signs - all replaced with flat, white cuboid representations of their size. As well as those, there were a series of long, low rectangular shapes lying along the sidewalk. She didn’t want to think much about those. For the most part, each of the automatons ignored her, even as she destroyed each one that crossed her path. It helped that she had only seen one that was larger than a cat. Unfortunately, that one was 10 feet tall and standing directly in front of her apartment building. He has been quiet for a long time, but she hears his voice again now.

“Ok so, let's just wait for it to move on and then… wait, what's he looking at?” Annabeth follows its gaze and spots a trio of bodies on the ground. She watches as it begins to reach down. She begins to charge forward, knowing that she’s too far away, awkward with the sword hanging over her shoulder.

Then there was a flash of blue, and the smell of sea air, and she felt herself being carried forward as if by a wave. The sword pulled off her shoulder, held out before her and she realised it was creating a wave of soft green waves, pulling her toward the automaton at just the right height. The sword sank into its chest and then sliced out under its arm. The wave lightly deposited her down onto the ground.

“Whoa… well I guess there are some benefits to this, huh babe?” She could imagine his crooked smile at that, rubbing the back of his head. She almost wished that she could forget what he looked like, just so this could be easier. Almost. She examined the bodies on the floor, and recognised two of the men that had attacked her. Their only apparent injuries they have are intense scorch marks down their arms, leading to their heart. The third body, though.

Annabeth looked down at the body of Jason Grace, face down on the pavement outside her door. His shirt is torn, the jagged wound in his back no longer bleeding. Still, she kneels by him, touching his neck to make sure. As she knelt down, Percy spoke.

“Hey Annabeth, I can see something - hold me over him.” She did as he asked, and a flash of electricity jumped between the two of them. She jumped up, alarmed before he spoke again. “That changed a few things in here… I guess I picked up a few things? His last memories for one. When the attacks started, he and Piper came to find us but were ambushed. He convinced Piper to run for help on my bike before trying to hold them off.” Annabeth frowned at that. Piper wouldn't have just left Jason like that. As if he could read her mind, Percy continues. “He told her that… that Zeus had transformed Thalia to save her once before. He said that Jupiter owed him the same, and he’d be fine. He didn’t believe it, though.” Annabeth stood at that. She felt a rage rise in her chest, and then an idea struck her. She moved over to one of the suited men and flipped him over with a foot, before plunging the blade down into his chest.

“Whoa! Ugh ‘Beth, this guy’s head is pretty gross. I’d appreciate a warning next time.” She stared at the sword expectantly. “Ok, ok. This is Cal, and his buddy there is Comm.” In another time, that might have been funny. “I can’t see that far back, but they’re a part of some group called Triumvirate? They wanted to remake New York and put some kind of silence spell over it to stop help from arriving. They were here to bring us to - no actually, I’m not telling you where until you have something to eat.” She shook him at that, because he was really caring about her eating habits now? “I’m serious. We don’t know how long this is gonna take.” She lets out a silent sigh, before reaching down to pick Jason up. She won’t leave him behind now that she knows what the automatons are doing. As she climbs the stairs, she thinks about what Percy had said. She’s heard the word triumvirate before, but Roman history wasn’t her forte. She did know it referred to a group of three though, meaning that one of their group was most likely an outsider. Maybe she could use that. Moving inside, she gently lay Jason down on the couch, before placing the sword on a nearby chair. 

Annabeth hadn’t considered what it would be like to enter their bedroom alone. She would always enter it alone, now. She thought of that morning, of lazy kisses and whispered words before their rush to get ready. It was their routine. Gods, she wishes she could scream. Instead, she reaches beneath the bed and pulls out her bug out bag. She quickly strapped on her armour, before trying a small piece of ambrosia. It tasted new, of his coffee with tooth rotting syrup, and she loves it. Then she was snapped out of her memories as the phone rang. Cautiously, she answered it.

“Hello, Ms Chase. Good to know you made it home safe!” Annabeth freezes, drawn back to the Cyclops lair where she had heard the monsters speak with Luke’s voice and Thalia’s voice and - and her voice. She had not simply been cursed with silence. Her voice had been stolen. The thief seemed to appreciate how Annabeth had felt, because she had paused her speech for a moment. “Now, as for the reason I’m calling. We have an offer for you I think you’ll like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess I'm rewriting ToA too

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Percy! (well, not quite) Though this does feel like it could stand alone easily enough, I'm going to write out through the end of the game. No promises on a timeline for that, though.


End file.
